Baptism

I have seen and testified that this is the Son of God. 
~ John 1:29-34

Here he comes, cousin, kinsman,

the one who even as a child

gave me breath and hope

to see beyond the stones and stars

to a deeper, higher way.

Playmate of my childhood

those times of visitation of

our mothers, starting

even in the womb.

I leapt at his approach.

And here he comes again,

walking, purposeful,

his face, his gaze

turned right on me.

I rise from where I bend

over the newly baptized

and look him full

in his shining face.

I know why he has come.

But can it be? Can he,

the one who showed me grace

now come and bend

to these waters to be plunged

and have his sins expunged?

He knows no sin! I know!

I see into his heart at last.

How can he come to me

to be cleansed? Oh no!

But he walks on, says yes,

I come to you. It must be so.

And so we step together

into that waiting pool.

I see him sink, then rise.

And now! The heavens burst

with majesty and light!

And from the center of the sky

a dove flies down and lights

on his bejeweled head.

And now a voice

that thunders in its peace

says, “Here he is! My Son!”

Do what he says!”

January 3, 2014 — Feast of the Holy Name of Jesus

This was the first poem I wrote, even before starting the Spiritual Exercises, when I was planning to begin and knew enough about Ignatian meditation to put myself in the scene. I was John the Baptist.